Page 46 of The War of Four Winters

"It's the only way forward that I see," I cut in. "If you have another idea, feel free to lay it out, but I have yet to hear a viable alternative. In less than two months, we will run out of food if we don’t freeze first. Without the Yeutlanders, we lack the forces to launch an attack. This is our only option."

"What of our people here?" Hawk asked, his voice softening. "If something goes wrong, if you're captured or killed..."

"Then Taelyn leads the council as we've established," I said firmly. "And the council will need to formalize our succession plans beyond that."

"You still intend to change how power passes?" Lord Northfire asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes. Once this war ends, the old ways must change too. The assembly should elect their leader to serve a limited term," I replied, looking around the table. "But until those reforms can be implemented, Taelyn holds authority in my absence."

Taelyn nodded. "The council will stand united, regardless of what comes."

"What if the Lord Consort returns while you're at Valdrenn?" Lord Craiggybottom asked. "He would surely try to reach you."

"Elindir is not to attempt rescue under any circumstances," I said, allowing no argument. "Taelyn, you'll make sure he understands. One of us must remain for the boys."

She nodded, understanding what went unsaid. If the worst happened, if neither Elindir nor I survived, she would care for Leif and Torsten. We had discussed this when he sailed for Homeshore.

"We should draft a properly submissive response," Daraith suggested. "Something to feed Vinolia's ego without raising suspicion."

"I'll manage the wording," Taelyn offered.

The council debated details—escort size, routes, mission timeline. I let them talk, my mind already focused on Valdrenn. On Vinolia. On the confrontation that now seemed inevitable.

My hand found the spot beneath my ribs, rubbing at the phantom pain. I'd already died once for love. What was one more risk against that?

"What about our supplies while you're gone?" Lord Northfire asked. "The eastern granary roof collapsed this morning. Our reserves are critically low."

"The Empress of Bones offered warriors from the Spine tribes," Taelyn reminded us. "We could send for them now. They bring their own provisions."

"Do it," I agreed. "And double the hunting parties to the western forests. We need to gather what food we can before the storms worsen."

As the council dispersed to begin preparations, Katyr stayed behind, his expression troubled. "There's another matter we haven't addressed," he said quietly. "The boys."

I sighed heavily. "What do I tell them? How do I explain that I might not return?"

"The truth," Katyr suggested. "As much as is appropriate. They've already suffered so much loss. Being honest now, preparing them..." He didn't finish, but I understood.

"I'll speak with them tonight," I promised. "But first, you and Daraith must finalize your preparations. Every detail must be perfect."

When Katyr had gone, I stood alone in the council chamber. Outside, the magical storm battered the ancient walls, Vinolia's power made physical. Soon I would face the lich herself across a table, maintaining diplomatic courtesy while planning her destruction.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, cold purpose filled my chest. Vinolia's storms had not only besieged our fortress but endangered Elindir's mission. Every day of magical winter increased the chance I might never see him again.

For that alone, she deserved whatever awaited her.

Yet Vinolia was merely the instrument of a greater foe. My father. Tarathiel. The thought of him lurked beneath every war council, every strategy, every plan. This surrender to Vinolia was, in truth, to him. Would he be content to let his lackey handle such a victory? Or would he appear at Valdrenn, unable to resist witnessing my humiliation personally?

The possibility complicated everything. My father knew me better than anyone alive. He would sense deception where others might not. If he appeared unexpectedly... I pushed the thought away. We could only prepare for what we knew, not what we feared.

I thought of Leif and Torsten at breakfast. Of Elindir's promise to return to them. Of my unspoken vow to keep them safe until he did.

Some promises had to be be kept, regardless of cost.

In the courtyard below, preparations had begun. Formal banners unfurled, honor guards assembled, provisions gathered for the journey. I watched briefly, these brave souls willing to follow their king into the enemy's stronghold.

Then I turned from the window and headed toward the inner fortress. I needed to find the boys. There were things I had to say before departing. Just in case.

Homeshorerosefromthemorning mist, black stone walls bristling with war machines. Michail's golden banners snapped in the winter wind. Four days at sea had sharpened my rage to a killing edge.

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